Comfort Zone
by Cynthia Arrow
Summary: "This was Josh debating: is she mad enough to throw things, or can I talk?" (CJ/Josh, but no romance really)


Author:  Cynthia Arrow

Disclaimer:  CJ and Josh are not mine.  Borrowed from Sorkin.  I'm debating on giving them back.

Rating:  PG for mild language

A/N:  In fanfiction land, there's like a hard and fast rule that first kisses are always great for our couples, and they always either lead to an effortless relationship or serious angst.  What would happen if neither occurred?

Comfort Zone

It was the third day of the president's mandated time at our lakeside retreat.  It's called Camp Pleasant, but we've dubbed it Bartlett Jail.  Enforced togetherness and love.  Opening up with your feelings.  It's a little ridiculous.  We did not get to where we are by being driven by our emotions.  Toby actually pointed that out first.  But I think his crankiness of late was the impetus for our incarceration, so I give him no points for that.

So we've been spending a weekend cooped up in two big cabins bonding and wasting time because the president and Leo think we don't gel like we used to.  I believe Leo's sincere about the whole thing—he actually showed up.  The president has more pressing things to do.  At least that was his excuse.  Hell, we all have more pressing things to do, but we're here.  At least we're allotted two hours each night to work on work.  In the mean time, we relax and we go through bonding exercises that might work on middle schoolers.  If we have to do the trust fall, I'll scream.

It's all of senior staff and their assistants enduring this thrown-together hodge-podge of down time and team building.  As if we weren't already as team as we could possibly be.  As if we didn't spend every waking moment together all the time.  The only bright spot was writing anonymous criticisms on index cards to put in a manila envelope for each person.  And since Leo, per the president's instructions, made each person read their envelope full of cards out loud, it was actually tremendous fun, especially since we recognize each other's handwriting.  But that was the only ray of sunshine for the weekend, besides the alcohol.  It was our last night in the slammer, and we'd been allowed some down time to hang out.  Toby said he was drinking to forget.  

I was sitting out by the lake with my beer, breathing in the silence and the night.  Josh came and sat down beside me.  I still balk at seeing him in jeans and a sweatshirt.  It's disconcerting, really.  It's like the suit and tie are a part of his obnoxious personality.  Take them away and there's…well, there's Josh.  If I let myself really dwell on it, I realize that it's this Josh that's always there, that all of us who really know him see every day.  

"He doesn't satisfy me anymore?" he said, dropping a card in my lap.

I tried not to grin.  "Gotta have some fun at the circus somehow."

"Silly me, I was trying to take it seriously."

"You take everything seriously.  That's one of your problems."

"How come you didn't write that on the card?"

"Don't you think this is a little pointless?"

"Yes."

"I know you do, because I'm pretty sure you wrote the one about me walking on my heels like I want to kill somebody."

"It's a sexy walk, CJ, but it scares me."

"As well it should."

"Why are you always like that?"

"Like what?"

"Tough.  Protective."  I was right.  That man is way too serious.

"Too many stories, not enough beer," I said, hoping he'd lay off.

"You know, if you're trying to scare men away, it actually backfires on you."

"Oh?"

"Some of us think it's attractive."

"You've started a fan club?"

"The Claudia Jean Admiration Society.  You are officially admired."

"How many beers have you had, Josh?"

"Two.  My head is pounding so bad right now I might be sick.  Thought a relaxing beer would help.  Didn't."

"So what brought on this sudden burst of feeling, or whatever it is?"

"I guess this weekend got me thinking about a lot of things, things about everybody that I didn't pay attention to before."

"Such as?"

He smiled, one of those sincere selfless smiles he has that most of us find engaging because they're so rare.  It's a quiet, small smile, but it warms just the same.  "Such as how Carol also knows all the reporters by first name, and she knows their birthdays and buys them something with her own money.  How Leo walks through the bullpen when I'm spending a day on the hill and makes sure Donna's holding down the fort."

"He's very paternal that way."

"Are you mocking me, CJ?"

"Yes," I said, and I took another drink of my beer.  "But I hear what you're saying."  I even understood what he meant by seeing things differently.  It had been easier to see my coworkers and friends more clearly in a different context, out of our everyday environment.

Josh put his hands to his face and exhaled sharply.  His fingers settled over his mouth.  "I didn't realize until this weekend that Will can read Toby pretty well—probably better than Sam could—and it irritates the hell out of him.  Will also has a penchant for using the word 'penchant,' but only when he talks.  His writing and his speaking are like daylight and dark sometimes."

"I've noticed.  I can hear Sam in speeches, and sometimes Toby.  You never hear Will.  I mean in the wording.  The ideas, they smack you in the forehead."

He stared out over the water for a moment, chuckling to himself.  "Donna has surprised me a little.  Did you know she organizes everything?"

"You knew that."

"I knew she did it at work.  I didn't realize it was an integral part of her personality.  Or maybe I've just forgotten.  She just naturally gravitates toward keeping everything in line, seeing the big picture.  She could probably do my job some day, if she weren't scared of the congressmen.  And she'd never be as good as me at getting by on charm."  The smirk had returned, the kind of smirk that makes me want to smack him at times.

"You really are full of yourself, Josh."

"I know.  But it's endearing," he said, scooting closer to me and taking the beer out of my hand.

"No, it's not."

"CJ, if I've learned anything about you during this whole fascinating trip through emotional bonding hell it's that you often say one thing—negative, pessimistic, defensive—and then act another way, as if you believed the best about everybody and everything.  Why is that?"

"Once again, not enough beer."

"Come on, admit it.  You like me."

"Josh, you're my friend.  You're good at your job, and you can often be fun to be around, when you pull that stick out of your ass."

"Now, was that so hard, CJ?"

"No.  Now, will you go away?"

"If you'll explain your card.  When did I ever satisfy you?"

"Josh, it was just a stupid thing.  I knew it would embarrass you.  And I'm tired of hazing Will."

"It was a subconscious plea for something."

I rolled my eyes and turned to him.  "Like your lips on mine?"  I adopted a fake sexy tone.  "Oh, baby.  I need you."

Then he kissed me.  It was soft and wet, but nice.  He smelled like Josh and tasted like beer.  Without even trying to stick his tongue in my mouth, he just moved his lips over mine, slowly, softly, more hesitantly than he probably would have with someone he really wanted, someone he was confident of charming.  This was not like his tone of voice with Donna or his swagger after getting a swing vote; this was Josh when he'd pissed me off, his tapping on my door and peering around it to see if he could come in.  

He pressed his lips resolutely into mine and pulled back, taking a drink of his beer and refusing to meet my gaze.  This was Josh debating:  is she mad enough to throw things, or can I talk?  He nearly always opted for the talking, usually digging the hole deeper.  But that's Josh.  He works words into the appropriate magic when he's under pressure.  Even for those of us who really know him, those of us who are immune, we forgive and forget, suspending our disbelief and letting the magic words take effect anyway.  Because it's Josh. 

When I looked back at his face, it was suddenly weird.  Not that his face was weird, because I honestly didn't see him any differently, but it was like a moment of clarity.  I honestly think it would have been easier if I'd realized I was in love with him.  Instead, I looked at him and saw a part of myself, one of the parts that holds me together. 

"That was your fault," he said.

"I know."

"So at least we know that we're not secretly dying of lust for each other."

"You talk too much, Josh.  Do you know that?"

"You've gotta at least tell me how it was."

"The world revolves around you, doesn't it?  You were there, Josh.  I don't think you need a play-by-play."

"CJ…"

"This is a bizarre conversation."

"This whole weekend has been bizarre.  Come on, be honest."

"It was like kissing my obnoxious cousin Larry.  Or one of my younger brother's stupid friends."

"CJ, don't tell me I can't generate any passion."

"God, you're serious as a heart attack, aren't you?"  He sighed a little, unwilling to answer.  I decided that the best way to get rid of him was be serious too.  "It wasn't you or your lips or your performance.  It was us.  I can't give you anything to go on.  You're too close to me for it to be anything other than what it was."

"I'll take that," he said, getting up.  He winced a little and pressed his fingers into his forehead as he turned to go back toward the cabins.

Suddenly, my mouth said, "You don't have to go."

"I thought you wanted some peace and quiet?"

"Right now, you're peaceful.  Maybe you'll be quiet.  Come here."

"What?"

"Sit."  I motioned to the ground in front of me.  "I'll rub your head."

He sat down, letting me run my fingers over his scalp, settling them at his temples.  There were no ripples of sexual tension.  I had told him the truth.  He was like my brother.  That would explain why I always had the urge to smack him.

He moaned softly and I watched as his body settled into the ground in front of me, between my legs.  He balanced himself on my knees, draping his arms over my bare legs.  The cool air was barely stirring, the lake was still, and Josh was surprisingly still.  I concentrated on the motion of rubbing his temples gently, hearing small sounds like the release of tension come from his chest.  

Of course, that quiet, personal moment between friends was broken by his big mouth.

"That feels really nice.  If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were coming on to me, CJ."

"Shut your pie hole, Josh," I said, settling back into the quiet.  Or at least the only quiet Josh is capable of.  That's okay.  It's the kind of quiet I'm used to.


End file.
